Christmas at the Foyles Bookshop (The Foyles Girls)

by Elaine Roberts

  Mabel nodded. ‘Quite possibly, or the house they wanted to buy down here.’

  Victoria frowned. ‘Then that’s what it shall be used for. They would want him to get the best possible care they could give him.’ She paused. ‘I need to speak to him.’

  Mabel smiled at her newfound niece. ‘You are so like your father. He would be proud of you, I’m sure.’

  Colour flooded Victoria’s cheeks. ‘I don’t know about that, but it’s important I do what I can to help John. I know they would want me to do that, as indeed would my brother and sister.’ She looked across the road at the houses facing the beach, all in different states of repair. ‘Do they live far from here?’

  ‘No, but I can’t pretend I’m not a little nervous about this.’ Mabel hesitated. ‘I can’t promise my father won’t be at home. I didn’t think this through when I came to Foyles this morning.’

  Victoria squinted, as she looked up the road. ‘Let’s get it over and done with.’ Her mouth felt dry. She licked her lips, removing the salty residue that the wind had carried in from the sea.

  They walked along the road in silence. Victoria could hear and feel her hearting pounding in her chest. Her palms felt damp inside her coat pockets.

  Mabel pulled Victoria to a standstill. ‘This is it.’

  They stood there for a few seconds.

  Victoria stared up at the imposing house. Her throat felt tight. Panic took hold, and she was fighting for breath.

  Mabel watched Victoria’s conflict run across her pale features. ‘Are you all right? Are you sure you want to do this?’

  Victoria nodded. ‘I can do this, I know I can.’

  Mabel knocked on the door. ‘I don’t have a key. My father insisted I handed it back, when I left home.’

  The door opened a little, to reveal a petite, grey-haired lady peering out at them both. Her face lit up. ‘Mabel, how wonderful.’ She stepped back, to allow them to enter into the hall.

  Mabel stepped through the doorway. ‘Hello, Ma, it’s freezing out there.’ She wrapped her arms around her mother and kissed her cheeks. ‘How’s John?’

  Mabel’s mother lowered her eyes. ‘He’s not good, he’s very despondent.’ She looked up and stared at Victoria.

  ‘Sorry, Ma, this is—’

  ‘Victoria, I’d know that face anywhere.’ She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Victoria. ‘It’s so wonderful to have you in my home. David, my son, your father, used to send me photographs of the three of you, but then they just stopped, which I didn’t understand.’

  Mabel stood behind her mother. ‘Ma, let the poor girl get through the door.’

  Beatrice giggled. ‘Sorry, come in and I’ll shut the front door.’

  ‘What’s all the commotion out there?’

  At the sound of the deep voice, Victoria saw the two women stiffen.

  ‘What’s going on here?’ An elderly man, dressed in a black three-piece suit, stood between them and the sitting room.

  ‘Grandma, are you all right?’

  Victoria’s gaze immediately shifted to the direction of the feeble male voice. She looked at Mabel. ‘Is that John?’

  Before Mabel could answer, her father stepped forward and eyed her up and down. ‘So, looking at you, I take it you’re my eldest son’s daughter.’ He frowned and his face contorted with rage. ‘Mabel had no business bringing you here, and you are not welcome, so please leave.’

  There was no surprise on Mabel’s face, as she addressed her father. ‘Pa, John and Victoria have a right to meet each other. They are brother and sister.’

  ‘Not under my roof, they don’t. That time has long passed.’ He strode to the front door and pulled it open. The wind immediately rushed in, filling every nook and cranny. ‘You haven’t bothered with him or us for years and your parents certainly haven’t. Today, you turn up, uninvited, as if you have a right to be here. Now get out.’

  Victoria stood rigid, tension etched on her face. ‘But I—’

  ‘I’m not interested in your excuses.’ Herbert’s knuckles whitened as he gripped the door handle. ‘I’ve heard it all before, from your father.’

  Mabel’s hands were clenched tight, in front of her. ‘Pa—’

  ‘Herbert,’ Beatrice stepped forward. ‘Let her stay, please.’

  Herbert scowled at Victoria. ‘Get out, now.’

  Mabel’s face was red with anger. ‘Pa—’

  ‘Leave it, Mabel. At least I now know why my father didn’t bring me, or my sister and brother to Brighton anymore.’ Victoria stepped forward and hugged her grandmother. Her vision became blurry. ‘Maybe there will be another time.’

  She turned towards Mabel, to thank her for everything, but her grandfather grabbed her arm and steered her towards the door. ‘Get out and never come back. I’m surprised your father allowed you to come.’ He pushed Victoria out, slamming the door shut.

  ‘Pa, David and Margaret are dead.’

  Mabel’s voice carried through the wooden door. Victoria stood there for a moment, listening for voices, but there was nothing. She lifted her hand to knock on the door, but then thought better of it. She turned to walk away, holding back her tears until she was out of sight.

  20

  ‘Victoria.’

  Anger surged through Victoria as she marched along Oxford Street, not seeing the usual traders, smiling at people walking by, while shouting out to sell their wares.

  ‘Victoria.’

  Something told Victoria she should have stayed and had the argument with her grandfather. After all, John was her brother, and Mabel had said he didn’t have very long. She was sure she would regret that. She needed to speak to Daisy; after all, John was her brother too. Victoria sighed. She should’ve taken Daisy with her, but she was stubborn and hadn’t stopped to think.

  ‘Get your papers ’ere, just one penny,’ a young boy yelled out, from a shop doorway. ‘Read ’ow we’re winning the war. Give me a penny an I’ll give yer a paper. Come on ladies and gents, don’t make me carry these papers all day. They’re blooming heavy.’

  Victoria stopped and watched the boy hand out a few newspapers, before taking the pennies offered. He looked frozen, in his ankle length trousers and scuffed out shoes. His jacket was open; it didn’t look like it would meet in the middle. There were always people worse off than her. She carried on down Oxford Street. It was just like any other day.

  The boy shouted out again, his voice following her down the street. ‘Get yer news ’ere. Not only ’as Passchendale and Palestine been won, but the tanks are moving in too.’

  Victoria wondered where Stephen was. She hadn’t heard from him for a few weeks. Had he been killed at Passchendale? She shook her head, trying to shake away the devil sitting on her shoulder. No, I’m not listening. He’s all right. I know he is. I am not going to lose my faith; I’m not, I’m not.

  Victoria thought about the hospital steam train that had pulled into Victoria station the same time as hers. The two trains had filled the air with grey smoke. She wanted to stay and see if Stephen was among the injured, but she hadn’t wanted to stare, so with her head down, Victoria had made her way to the end of the platform, wondering what she should do about John and Ted. She shook her head, wondering why life had to be so difficult. Was she the reason? Had she created all these problems?

  ‘Victoria.’

  Victoria turned to look in the direction of the woman’s voice, searching the faces of the shoppers milling around.

  Daisy’s smile quickly faded when she saw her sister’s grey pallor. ‘Thank goodness. Your hearing must be going, I’ve been calling you for ages. I thought you were working at Foyles today.’

  Victoria nodded. ‘I was, but it’s a long story.’

  Daisy tucked her hand under her sister’s arm. ‘I have all the time in the world. Oh my goodness, you didn’t get the sack, did you?’

  Victoria grimaced. ‘No, it’s much worse than that.’

  Daisy frowned. ‘It can’t be as bad a
s you think.’ She squeezed her sister’s arm, under the soft, thick wool of the winter coat. ‘Let’s go home and make a pot of tea, things always look better when you’ve had a cuppa.’

  They both turned into Rathbone Place and headed towards Percy Street.

  ‘Tell me, what is it?’ Daisy glanced across at Victoria. ‘It must be quite big, for you to miss a day at Foyles.’

  Victoria shook her head. ‘I’ve been foolish, that’s all.’

  Daisy frowned. ‘Whatever it is has kept you occupied all the way along Oxford Street, because I kept calling you, and you didn’t so much as look round. Come on, tell me. Is it Stephen or Ted?’

  Victoria shook her head, again before taking a deep breath. ‘I went to Brighton.’

  ‘Brighton?’ Daisy’s voice went up an octave. ‘Whatever for, especially in this weather, it’s November. Why would anyone go to Brighton, when it’s so cold?’

  Victoria gave a faint sneer at her own words being repeated back from when her parents went in January, seven years ago, and never came home again. ‘Mabel came to find me in Foyles this morning, and asked me to go with her to Brighton.’ She gave Daisy a sideways glance, as they turned right, into Percy Street. ‘The intention was to meet John, not that he knew I was coming.’ She sighed. ‘But it never happened.’

  Daisy pulled the string through the letterbox and grabbed the key on the end of it. ‘I don’t know why you’re bothering with it all. If Ma and Pa had wanted us to know, they would have told us when we were growing up, but they didn’t. We should respect their reasons, whatever they were.’

  ‘Don’t you want to meet John?’ Disbelief shone from Victoria’s eyes. ‘Doesn’t it bother you that we have a brother we didn’t know we had?’

  Daisy turned to look at Victoria. ‘No, not really. Everyone has their secrets, and he’s no doubt had quite a good life in Brighton, otherwise we would have heard all about it before. It’s not like they didn’t know where we lived, is it?’ She unbuttoned her coat and slipped her arms out of the sleeves. ‘No one cared when Ma and Pa died. I don’t remember anyone rushing to help us then. It was you that kept us all together. I know there were days when you didn’t eat, so we could. I know you had a big argument with Alice, when she tried to help us.’

  Victoria stepped inside and let the wind slam the door shut behind her. ‘What makes you think you know so much?’

  Daisy hung her coat on the peg, before glancing in her direction. ‘Lily told me.’ She gave a little giggle. ‘That’s how she got me to sign up for the police. She sold it on the grounds of more money and no domestic service.’

  Victoria shook her head, before speaking in a low tone. ‘I thought you would want the same things as I do, I thought you would want to make John part of our family. He’s your brother.’

  Daisy’s face suddenly contorted with rage. ‘Not if it means losing my sister to another family.’ She turned and fled from the room. Her footsteps thudded on the stairs, each step creaking its objection.

  Victoria stood rooted to the spot. ‘What? I don’t understand what just happened here.’ She slowly lowered herself onto a chair.

  The bedroom door thudded shut. Daisy’s words repeated themselves in Victoria’s mind, over and over again. So much for protecting her brother and sister. The burdens of the people she cared about caved in on her. She covered her face with her hands and sobbed.

  *

  Victoria had dragged herself to Endell Street Hospital. She stood in the middle of Joan of Arc Ward and looked around her, wondering what she was doing there. She should have been at home talking to Daisy, but she had stayed locked in her room and wasn’t answering the door. Victoria’s eyes were bloodshot and sore from crying, and she hoped no one would ask her if she was all right. The lights were already on in the hospital, casting their shadows on the walls. The lighter summer evenings had long gone. There was no sign of Mabel, so did that mean something had happened to John? Had Mabel argued with her parents, or was she avoiding her because she was embarrassed by the whole situation? Victoria watched a nurse bending over a patient, changing a dressing. She was tempted to go over and ask after Mabel, but it could just be her day off. She pushed the wooden trolley, the wheels squeaking along the floor, towards the end of the next bed. ‘I have some fresh water for you.’ She put the full jug and clean glass on the bedside table.

  The man looked up from his newspaper. ‘Thank you.’

  Victoria nodded and returned to the trolley. She noticed that some of the patients she had come to recognise were no longer on the ward. Corporal Peters was one of them. The laughter had temporarily left the ward, being replaced by the groans of fear and pain.

  She had left Ted’s water jug until the end. ‘Good evening, Corporal Marsden.’ A smile pulled at the corners of her mouth. ‘I’m so pleased to see you out of bed. How are you feeling today?’

  Ted moved his head in the direction of her voice. ‘There’s no change. I’m just sitting, instead of lying.’ He gave a little smile. ‘But you don’t sound your usually fiery self. What’s happened?’

  ‘Nothing, it’s just tiredness.’ Victoria hesitated, before continuing. ‘To you, it might be just sitting instead of lying, but to me, it’s a major step forward.’

  Ted laughed. ‘How do you know I haven’t just got out of bed to stop you from nagging me?’

  Victoria chuckled. ‘It doesn’t matter why you got out of bed; you did, and that is all that I care about.’ She perched on the edge of the bed. ‘The next few steps will be getting you to feed yourself and mix with other patients, which will involve moving around the ward.’

  Ted groaned. ‘Blimey, there’s no end to it. I thought you’d be pleased to see me out of bed, and then you’d stop going on at me.’

  Victoria shook her head, but then remembered he couldn’t see her. ‘I want you to be prepared for when you have to leave the hospital.’ She hesitated again, before continuing. ‘I spoke to one of the nurses, and the doctors don’t think you’ll be permanently blind, but you’ll have limited vision, so you won’t be going back to the frontline.’

  Ted’s mouth straightened. ‘I know. They told me that a couple of weeks ago, but they weren’t sure, one way or the other.’

  Victoria frowned. ‘I thought I was giving you good news.’

  Ted shook his head. ‘It doesn’t change anything, if I can’t work.’

  ‘You don’t know that yet. You need to wait and see what vision you get back.’

  Ted sat quietly for a couple minutes.

  Victoria clenched her hands in her lap, wondering if she had any words of wisdom to impart.

  ‘You shouldn’t waste your time on me; I’m not a very nice person.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter to me whether you’re a nice person or not. I’m here to do what I can to help, and if nagging works, then so be it. Everyone has been through a lot since this so-called Great War started, even us at home.’

  ‘I know, I’m sorry.’ Ted paused. ‘That’s what I mean, I’m a mean person, and it’s not the war that’s made me like that, although it probably hasn’t helped.’

  Victoria opened her mouth to speak but closed it again. It was time for her to just listen.

  ‘I had a girlfriend once and I ran away when she needed me the most.’ Ted’s hands were clenched in front of him. ‘What kind of man does that?’

  Victoria wanted to tell him he didn’t have to talk about it, but something held her tongue.

  ‘Her parents had died in a train crash and I just couldn’t handle it, so I ran, like a coward.’ Ted cleared his throat. ‘I joined the army, before the war started, thinking I could forget her, but I couldn’t.’

  With Ted’s unexpected confession came guilt. It wrapped itself around Victoria, and held her tight. She should tell him who she was, but he had already started talking again.

  ‘I’ve written to her and she has forgiven me, or at least she says she has.’

  Victoria licked her dry lips and cleared her throat. �
�You don’t have to talk to me about this.’

  Ted continued as if she hadn’t spoken, his voice a gravelly whisper. ‘And I’d hoped we could start again when this war was over, but I’ve ruined things again, because now I have nothing to offer her.’

  Victoria’s throat tightened, as she fought the tears that wanted to escape. ‘Have you asked her?’

  ‘No.’

  Victoria took a couple of breaths. ‘Don’t you think you should?’ She stared at Ted. He looked vulnerable, sitting in the chair. He was almost skeletal, to how she remembered him. ‘It’s not your decision to make. If you love her, then you should let her decide.’

  Ted jutted out his chin. ‘I don’t want her to marry me out of sympathy.’

  Victoria’s chin dropped; he had been going to propose. ‘Then you need to fight for yourself, and what you want.’

  Ted tilted his head. ‘Is that what you do?’

  Victoria gave a humourless laugh. ‘No, despite giving similar advice to my friends, it’s easier to say than to do.’

  Ted nodded. ‘Well, maybe it’s time we both started fighting back.’

  Victoria stared at the man she had spent so much of her life loving from a distance. ‘I think you’re right. No more feeling sorry for ourselves, which means I have another trip to make to Brighton.’

  ‘Brighton? Is that where you come from?’

  Victoria forced a smile. ‘No, but it seems my father did, so I have a brother to officially meet.’

  ‘It’s strange that you haven’t met him before.’

  Victoria groaned, before giving a little laugh. ‘That’s a long story that I will tell you some other time.’

  Ted sat in silence for a few minutes.

  Victoria stared at him. ‘Are you all right? Did I say something wrong?’

  ‘No. No, your laugh just reminded me of another time and place.’

  ‘I’m sorry, I should tell you…’

  ‘Tell me what?’

  Victoria’s courage took cover. ‘Nothing.’

  ‘Well.’ Ted beamed. ‘I hope it goes well, but if not, give them what for. It will be their loss, not yours.’